


kiss me

by swancharmings



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: F/M, St. Patrick’s Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23201653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swancharmings/pseuds/swancharmings
Summary: The luck of the Irish. (Post-canon, one-shot)
Relationships: Donna Paulsen/Harvey Specter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	kiss me

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently all I can write during this self-isolation is smut. Please look away.
> 
> This is for Ruthie (popexpaulsen), my favorite Irish gal.
> 
> Biggest thank you to Heather and Alyssa for the beta, if I could hug you both I would. Also, thank you to Cassie (cassieemma_art) for her beautiful drawing that definitely inspired this (find it here: https://twitter.com/cassieemma_art/status/1239667464478191617?s=21 )
> 
> Comments and critiques always welcome, I hope you enjoy this and are staying safe ❤️

He wakes to the drumming of rain and Donna’s fingers trailing up and down his bare chest. He smiles in half-sleep, brings his arm up to thread his hand through her hair. She is warm and comforting above him, the raindrops on their window casting kaleidoscope patterns over her face and arms.

“Morning,” he says gruffly, nose brushing hers in a sweet caress.

“Morning,” she breathes, throwing one leg over his waist to fully straddle him. “Do you know what day it is?”

He blinks up at her in momentary confusion until he notices her shirt - grey and worn with bright green letters that spell out “Kiss Me, I’m Irish.”

His smile grows and he cups a breast, squeezes gently and rubs her nipple through the fabric.

“I do now.”

Donna leans back, away from his touch and places her hands on her hips. “Well?” she asks, humor etched on her face.

“Oh,” he smirks, cradling her hips, splaying his hands on her ass as he gently guides her up his torso. “I’ll kiss you, all right.”

Donna gets the gist and scoots up until her knees rest beside his ears, and his mouth is on her pussy in a nanosecond, bare under her t-shirt and she can’t help the gasp that escapes her throat.

She’s been close since she woke up, content to let him sleep for a few peaceful moments before the need to touch him became too strong. Now, with his lips closing around her clit she comes hard, pulsing in time to the flicks of his tongue.

Harvey doesn’t stop. She soaks him, dripping down his chin but he can’t get enough. He laps at her, gentle kisses on her thighs as she comes; once her hips have stilled with a soft sigh he starts up again, this time gentle and unhurried, lavishing every bit of her. He sweeps his tongue along her outer lips before teasing at her entrance, savoring the taste of her.

His morning stubble is chaffing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, and it’s raw and strangely intimate and it’s not long before Donna is grinding down unabashedly on his mouth. Her brain foggily reminds her not to crush him completely but it feels so _good_ , _he_ feels so good, and all other sensation is lost.

“Donna,” Harvey hums against her and she rocks into him with a whimper. “Donna Donna Donna.”

Her hips are moving of their own accord now, seeking the pressure of his hot mouth and she just — needs —

Harvey grabs tight to her hips and thrusts her against his face and she’s coming again, hard and fast and _please don’t stop_ , and she’s so overstimulated that the way his tongue bathes over her clit after the fact has her coming a _third time_ and she doesn’t remember how to breathe.

Donna is barely holding herself upright and Harvey maneuvers under her so she can fall to the sheets, boneless and shaking.

He pulls her flush against him, curling his body behind her with his arm around her waist. Donna fits her hand in his, fingers laced together in front of her stomach as she gulps down air.

He has strands of golden red between the fingers of his other hand, twirling them between his thumb and forefinger. It’s something he’s done ever since their first — well, second — night; he strokes her hair, runs it between the pads of his fingers, tucks it behind her ear. She almost thinks it grounds him, reminds him that it’s her here with him and it will be her forever.

Once she has her bearings, she turns to face him, rests her forehead against his.

“That was a hell of a kiss.”

Harvey grins. “I’ve got plenty more.”

“I’m sure you do.”

He gives her a proper one, and she brings her hands up to his face, brushing her thumb along the shell of his ear.

“I think,” she whispers as they pull apart, “it’s your turn for a kiss.” His dick bobs on her stomach at her words and she bites back a smirk.

“That’s all well and good, Donna, but I don’t have any Irish in me,” he points out, though he’s quick to roll on his back.

She raises an eyebrow. “Would you like some?”

Harvey lets out a cross between a laugh and a groan. “Jesus, that’s bad.”

“I’m sorry! I had to.” She’s laughing too, face buried in his shoulder.

“Please tell me my luck didn’t just run out,” he jokes, and Donna lifts her head.

“Harvey,” she intones, straddling him once more, “you’ve been lucky since 2003.”


End file.
